


Built Like a Car

by kamelientee



Category: Legendary (2010)
Genre: Horny Teenagers, M/M, incestuous fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamelientee/pseuds/kamelientee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cal catches himself fantasizing about Mike.</p>
<p>(reposted from ff.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Built Like a Car

Cal wasn't staring. This he was absolutely 100% sure about; or, well, 90%.

Alright then, he was staring, but it was clear to him he shouldn't be, and therefore it was necessary to try _not to do it, not in any case, never._ Admiring your brothers skills as an athlete is one thing, admiring (and envying) him for is body – yes, well, you don't go to hell for it straight away, so it's not too bad, but it shouldn't be encouraged, either.

He told himself over and over again, Don't stare don't stare don't _ever_ stare when Mike's not wearing a shirt or not wearing trousers or _anything_. And don't try to think about girls instead because that's not exactly making it any better.

In fact, Cal was convinced it was a teenage thing and when he wasn't busy telling himself to look away, he was cursing everything that needed to be cursed. Like being a teenager, for example, and nursing those blasted hormones that would never stop looking for more uncomfortable situations to put him in. And it didn't even bother him to be getting the biology stuff all wrong there.

'Built like a car' – that's how their mother had described Mike. Big, strong, bulky. And yet she wasn't right at all. If cars looked like that, Cal would be the biggest fan the world had ever seen.

… He hadn't just thought that, had he?

Anyway. There he was, staring again at the way Mike's shoulders moved, the way his muscles moved when he hit the punchbag; left hand, balled into a fist, a punch, immediately followed by the same procedure with the other hand.

Having only just started, Mike wasn't sweating. Lucky thing, Cal thought, otherwise the malfunctioning brain would doubtlessly have turned it into a cheap porn show. Naked men, muscles gleaming and things like that.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. There was obviously too much thinking involved in this, and so far it hadn't done him any good. Then again, _actions_ could have been far worse; it was embarrassing enough just to picture it.

The images crept back into his mind. Images that made him blush and desperately wish he wasn't a horny teenager with fantasies about his own brother. Especially not since the fantasies insisted it would be terribly nice to touch Mike, touch his chest. Just to feel the muscles moving underneath his skin and maybe – maybe! – to be hugged and held by those strong arms and –

"Stop it," Cal hadn't really meant to say it out loud. Not too far away, Mike stopped training and looked at him questioningly. "Did you say something?"

Cal felt himself blush again while trying his best not to stammer some incomprehensible sentences (or worse, stare again or worse yet, stammer and stare). All he managed was, "Need to do my homework. I'll catch you later," before he all but bolted from the room.

He _really_ needed to get this back under control before the next training session started because not looking at or touching Mike wasn't an alternative. Not in wrestling, anyway.


End file.
